


Fingered

by Paganpunk2



Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Sex, Consensual Sex, Graphic Description, Homoeroticism, Homosexuality, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Period-Typical Homophobia, Punishment, Sex in a Car, softie sullivan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28069953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paganpunk2/pseuds/Paganpunk2
Summary: When Sid is accused of trafficking outside of Sullivan's jurisdiction, it's up to the Inspector to provide him with an alibi.  But every favor has its price...
Relationships: Sid Carter/Inspector Sullivan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Intense

As soon as Gloucester police headquarters vanished from the rearview mirror, Sullivan wheeled on the man in the passenger seat. “I cannot _believe_ that I just had to alibi you for involvement in a multi-county trafficking scheme,” he growled.

“Good job you could,” Sid replied. “If we hadn’t had that fight about confirming the Father’s suspicions, you wouldn’t have chucked me in the cells that night and there wouldn’t have been any records to get me out of this mess. What if we’d had a normal Tuesday instead? That Commissioner bloke struck me as the type who’d prefer hourly cell check logs to a story – even a steamy one – about you being six inches up my arse.”

Sullivan ground his teeth together so hard that they squeaked. The fact that Father Brown knew that he and Sid had been a couple for three months still made him uncomfortable. Their secret was perfectly safe with him – safer, perhaps, than if the priest _hadn’t_ known for sure, since now he would take every step he could to deflect whatever rumors might arise down the road – but the very idea of anyone other than his partner having confirmation of his homosexuality gave Sullivan heartburn. “Sid, I’m going to ask you a question, and you’re going to answer it completely honestly.”

“Yeah, alright.”

How Sid could sound so relaxed at the end of a twenty-four-hour period that had started with him driving Lady Felicia into Gloucester for a leisurely afternoon of shopping, progressed to a night in an unfamiliar jail cell, and nearly ended with multiple felony charges was something that Sullivan couldn’t fathom. “Do you have anything – anything _at all_ – to do with this ring they’re investigating?”

“I know a couple of the guys who are part of it. But it’s a tight operation. I never hear about the actual moving ‘til it’s done. I’m not in on it.” A beat passed. “...Wish I was, though.”

_“Sidney!"_

“You’ll wish I was, too, when you hear that they’re moving illegal aphrodisiacs.”

“Neither of us have any need for that kind of...assistance.”

“Course not. But it’d still be fun to try. See how intense it could get.”

“Any relationship that requires me to alibi my boyfriend to my supervisor’s supervisor’s supervisor is intense enough, thank you.”

“Oh, come off it. You enjoyed yourself.” Sid grinned across the car at him. “Getting to play the knight in shining armor? Don’t tell me it didn’t turn you on a bit.”

“It didn’t.” The stakes had been too high. Convictions on the charges that had been mentioned would have added up to years behind bars, and Sullivan knew full well that he wouldn’t qualify for conjugal visits.

“Oh. Well. Did me.” Sid’s hand materialized on Sullivan’s thigh. “In fact...”

“You realize I’m driving with that leg, don’t you?”

“I’ll move over to the next one, then,” said Sid, and slipped towards Sullivan’s crotch. “Don’t need it to drive. I should know, I’m a professional.”

“Stop it,” Sullivan ordered. Sid pouted at the tone, but withdrew. “...You can’t seriously be that horny after a night in jail.”

“You kidding? I couldn’t even masturbate. There were five other guys in there with me. Some of _them_ managed it – I'll be fine going a while without meeting any Irenes, by the way, after the things one was muttering about doing to her – but I wasn’t gonna risk what might have come out of my own mouth.”

“Well at least you were careful in that one single regard, then.”

Sid sent him a sad look, then sighed and turned his face to the side window. Neither spoke again for some time.

“...I didn’t mean to snap,” Sullivan apologized as they crossed the invisible line that marked his jurisdiction. “I’m sorry.”

“Worried, weren’t you? You always get snippy when you’re worried.”

“Of course I was worried! I knew that the Gloucester headquarters cells are all designed for multiple detainees. There was no telling what the others they put you with might have been picked up for.” Murder, assault, rape...for all that Sullivan had faith in the criminal justice system, he wasn’t blind to the fact that bad things often happened behind bars. Sid having passed a few months in prison before coming to Kembleford didn’t change his sassy mouth or his pretty face, either one of which might make him a target to men who felt they had nothing left to lose.

“Yeah...I thought you might be a bit upset once you heard some random person fingered me.”

_“What!?”_ Gravel skittered off the embankment behind the Wolseley as Sullivan nearly lost control. _“Which one of them was it?_ ” Whoever they were, they’d be lucky to have fingers left when he was done with them.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Calm down! Figure of speech, that’s all! Someone who’s in on the smuggling gave the Gloucester police my name and description. He _fingered_ me. I thought you’d get the joke!”

The edges of Sullivan’s vision were red. “I... _you_...” Spotting a familiar bend in the road, he turned the steering wheel sharply and jolted them onto an overgrown track. Low-hanging branches tapped against the roof as the path essed its way into the woods. Just before it became too narrow for the car to continue along, he jerked the wheel again, then hit the brakes.

They stopped in a small clearing that was surrounded by dense brush. Sullivan turned the engine off, and the gentle quiet of the woods rolled over them. It was the closest thing to complete privacy it was possible to get around the village, not because no one else knew about the place but because there would be plenty of warning if any of them had an urge to come by.

“Haven’t been out here in ages,” Sid remarked quietly. “It stopped being a good spot for anything fun or profitable after the police found out about it.”

Sullivan turned his head stiffly to stare at him. Sid’s mouth quirked as he suppressed a knowing smirk. “...Get in the backseat, Carter. Right fucking now.”


	2. Inside

“Oi, careful with those!” Sid complained a minute later as Sullivan pulled his trousers off him roughly. “The uniform’s about the only fitted thing I own, you know. I try to take a bit better care of it than that.”

“Oh, you want more _fitted_ things, do you?” Every emotion of the past day – fear, worry, rage, angst, annoyance, longing, lust, love – was roiling inside of him. He bent in, kissed Sid so hard that their teeth clashed, then nipped his bottom lip and pulled back. “That’s fine. I have your measure.”

“D’you think so?”

What a consummate con artist, to ask a question like that when he was already visibly flushed with desire. “I know so. But I’ll just go ahead and double check my notes.”

He’d taken more than just the trousers down with his needy yanking. There was no barrier between his hand and Sid’s cock, and thank God for that, because they were both too worked up to last for long. Sullivan felt his own clothes being frantically undone as he swirled his thumb around the head, once, twice - “yes,” he hissed as a wordless moan rose from beneath him, “yes, I know you like that...” – three times. Pre-cum there already, plenty of it, and that was good. If Sid wanted to joke about fingering, then that was exactly what he was going to get.

And away down the shaft, tickling, teasing, being an absolute bastard, because he’d thought his heart was going to break when Lady Felicia had called him in tears yesterday and told him what charges the arresting officers had rattled off as they put Sid in cuffs. Over his balls, over and under, and Sid was already lifting his hips to give him room to work. Sullivan slid his hand towards his destination, then paused just short of it. This was an act of revenge, yes, but that didn’t mean he wanted to cause pain. There had been enough pain felt over this incident already. “...Sid?”

Sid’s eyes were closed, not yet fluttering in the way that made Sullivan have to excuse himself from the room sometimes when they were out in public but on the threshold. His lips, still moist from their kiss, were slightly parted, panting. Buttons strained to hold his shirt together, pulling the white fabric tight and letting the hard nipples below show through. “Th’hell’re you waiting for?” their owner groaned. “Dyin’ here.”

Sullivan felt the flesh between his own legs jerk as he circled his target and then eased his index finger in. Cuticle deep, then a full knuckle, and it was so, so difficult to go slow, to make Sid wait and want, to punish him like this when Sullivan himself ached to simply plunge the rest of the way.

But he’d asked for this, jesting like he had about someone else – some _stranger_ – fingering him. For safety’s sake Sid still flirted with, and occasionally fucked, members of the fairer sex. But they had a hard and fast (oh, God, hard and fast, he didn’t dare think those words, not if he wanted to draw things out for more than about twenty seconds longer) rule about other men, because Sullivan had a jealous streak and Sid’s deeply loyal heart sometimes needed assistance to rein in his constantly questing loins.

Of course, Sullivan reflected as he massaged the firm, flexing muscles that were clamping greedily down on his fingertip, it was hardly a punishment if the guilty party wanted to be penalized. Sid might have wished for Sullivan to move up inside him at a quicker pace and then wrap his free hand around his craving-stiff cock, but the mewls escaping his mouth – dark, wet, deep, and there was going to be a round two to the punishment later tonight, the Inspector decided, a round two in which those smart-arse lips would be too busy sucking him off to quip – weren't complaints. If anything, they were encouragement.

So Sullivan progressed at a crawl, taking a full minute to progress to the second knuckle. Ninety seconds after that he was finally full hilt. A familiar pressure, different from the feel of the passage he’d traversed to get this far, met the pad of his finger. He pushed back against it, then rolled his fingertip from side to side. Sid cried out, louder than he would ever have allowed himself to do in the police cottage or even the caravan. The exclamation shot straight down Sullivan’s spine and into his groin, driving his hips forward in commiseration.

“Fuck, Sidney,” Sullivan rumbled breathlessly. “This is what you make me do.” He pulled out, just a little, a centimeter or two at most, then pushed back in at an absolutely glacial pace. Another cry, and there was more pre-cum now, and that was _perfect_ , because while his index finger was a good start Sullivan wanted to go deeper. “This,” he went on as he collected the fluid with his unoccupied hand, “is the kind of tortuous cruelty you drive me to.”

He’d barely been touching the ruddy, thrusting rod beneath the translucent lust slick, but now he gave it two firm, milking tugs. His reward was another tiny preparatory geyser, which he gathered in. In a moment he’d transferred it all to his left middle finger, the one linked to the digit that hadn’t stopped twitching against Sid’s prostate in evil little rhythms.

He had to withdraw entirely in order to get back in. His re-entry with twice the girth as before drew an immediate moan, all velvet and hormones, from his partner. Sullivan looked up, then echoed the sound. Dark lashes fluttered wildly over wide, disbelieving eyes. One hand had reached upward to grip the top of the seat, as if clutching onto something would help Sid hold back his orgasm for just one gasp, one heartbeat, one tic of a finger longer. The other was on his chest, toying with a nipple through his shirt and using far less restraint in its manipulations than Sullivan was exercising down below.

Devastated by the sight, Sullivan pressed his face against the inside of Sid’s thigh and groaned again. He wanted to move up, to slide all the way into him, and not with his fingers. He wanted to knock Sid’s hand away, tear his shirt open – buttons were easy enough to fix at home – and take that taut nipple between his teeth instead. He wanted to draw things out further, to keep taunting more of those sultry, begging moans into existence, because this was supposed to be _punishment_ , God damn it.

But he also wanted to come, to come right fucking now, to come with this impossible, incomparable man who was still, by some miracle, free to be with him in this moment. Sullivan’s fingers sank to their full depth without him consciously telling them to. Sid yelped, then began to shove himself against the digits with even greater desperation than he’d shown before. Close. They were so close. Just a little more...

Sullivan’s free hand fell to his own erection. His strokes were rapid from the start, and he matched each upthrust he made with a widening push of the fingers he’d buried in Sid. The red that had edged his vision earlier returned, then clouded his sight entirely. His keening lips felt every spasm that ran through the hot skin beneath them. “...Sid!” And the world went white.


	3. Intimate

“I have to admit,” Sid murmured sometime later, “I never even imagined what it would be like to get fingered in the backseat of a police car. Leastwise, not by the car’s proper owner.”

“Well,” Sullivan answered against his throat, “now you don’t have to imagine. You can just remember.”

“Not gonna be able to think about anything else for days.”

“Come by mine tonight, and I’ll give you something else to think about.”

“Mmm...what’d you have in mind?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Sullivan stretched up and spoke against Sid’s ear. “You‘re still in trouble.”

“Extended sentence, is it?”

“The serious nature of your misbehavior makes further corrective measures necessary.”

“All that for a little joke?”

“All that and more, Sid, for making me think I might lose you.”

Sid hummed happily and squeezed him. “You know, my favorite five minutes of every day are the ones like this, when you forget that you want everyone to think you’re a total bastard and you say something sweet.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, because there won’t be anything sweet about tonight.”

That was a lie, and they both knew it, because Sullivan was a secret post-coital cuddlebug and Sid never failed to indulge him. But Sid played along. “Sounds like you’re really planning to turn the screws.”

“I wouldn’t wear anything too fitted, if I were you.”

“No need to. If you didn’t have my measure before, you sure as hell do now.”

Chuckling, Sullivan pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the seat. As much as he’d appreciated being able to crawl up and collapse atop Sid in the immediate aftermath of his orgasm, there wasn’t enough space in the car for them to stay tangled together long-term. “I’ll drop you at the caravan so you can clean up and change.”

“Yeah. S’pose I’d better go see Lady F. as soon as I can.”

“She was rather upset yesterday. I don’t think she’ll be taking another shopping trip into Gloucester anytime soon.”

“Fine by me. I hate half of what she buys over there. She looks ten times better in what she gets from London.”

Sullivan peered down at him. “Since when are you a judge of women’s fashion? I realize it fits the stereotype, but still.”

“’M not. But she likes to look good, and to be told she looks good. And I’ve noticed she gets told that a lot more when she’s wearing stuff she picked up in London. There’re a few exceptions, but not many.” Sid shrugged. “I like her to be happy.” His hand rose, then trailed from Sullivan’s shoulder to his elbow. “...I like all the people I love to be happy.”

“They’d all be a lot happier if you’d stop getting yourself arrested.”

“By anyone other than you, at any rate.” Sid read Sullivan’s look. “What? Mrs. M. and Lady F. might not know about us, officially, but don't you think they’ve both been less bothered of late when you say I’m a suspect for something?”

“Have they?” He hadn’t noticed. “...I don’t like people knowing, Sid. It’s dangerous. Even with them.”

“I know. And I don’t plan to tell them any time soon. Not without talking to you first. My point is, this,” he gestured between them, “makes more people than me and you happy. Anyway, I didn’t do anything to be arrested for. Pretty typical, these days. Whoever fingered...uh...ratted me out was probably just desperate for a reduced sentence and started throwing out the names of everyone he could think of who wasn’t either his priest or his mother. And now I’ve got an alibi from a rather fine Inspector, so...”

“So what?” The alibi might still stand even if their relationship was to be discovered – it had been Sergeant Goodfellow and Constable Graves who had initialed the cell check logs on the night in question, since Sullivan had been too pissed off to even glance in at Sid – but that didn’t make it foolproof.

“So there’s no reason for anyone other than you to be putting me in handcuffs any time soon.”

Sullivan sighed, then bent down and pressed a kiss to Sid’s smiling lips. “There had better not be.” Then he turned to find his clothes, roughly half of which had ended up outside of the open car door. “Make sure you stop by the presbytery before you come my way,” he added, passing Sid’s things back to him as they came to hand. “Father Brown didn’t seem too terribly concerned once I told him that I could alibi you, but I’m sure he’ll still feel better for seeing you unfettered.”

“There you go being sweet again,” Sid crooned. “If you’re not careful, people might start thinking you’re a bit of a softie, after all.”

Sullivan inhaled, long and deep. The afternoon was warm, and the clearing was verdantly fragrant. A faint whiff of sex – they’d better roll the windows down for the remainder of the drive back – added an edge to the overwhelming sense of life that was making the air electric in his nose. A warm weight rolled up behind him and wrapped him in its arms. “Who knows,” Sullivan breathed as he leaned back into it. “...They might turn out to be right.”


End file.
